Soon came I to my father's ancient seat,our home and heritage. But lo! my sire(whom first of all I sought, and first would bearto safe asylum in the distant hills)vowed he could never, after fallen Troy,live longer on, or bear an exile's woe.“O you,” he cried, “whose blood not yet betraysthe cruel taint of time, whose powers be stillunpropped and undecayed, go, take your flight.If heavenly wrath had willed my life to spare,this dwelling had been safe. It is too muchthat I have watched one wreck, and for too Iongoutlived my vanquished country. Thus, O, thus!Compose these limbs for death, and say farewell.My own hand will procure it; or my foewill end me of mere pity, and for spoilwill strip me bare. It is an easy lossto have no grave. For many a year gone by,accursed of Heaven, I tarry in this worlda useless burden, since that fatal hourwhen Jove, of gods the Sire and men the King,his lightnings o'er me breathed and blasting fire.”